Finding the Reasons, Fighting the Truth
by The-Mad-Lemon
Summary: Behind the scenes in a Royal Household; Who would've guessed that a palace could contain so much angst? Especially for one certain elven prince, who appears to be having some family issues...or is it more than that...?
1. Not the Best of Mornings

**Summary: Legolas is one young elf who doesn't like authority. He listens to no-one, especially not his father, but some things lurk beneath the surface that aren't always visible, however, their effects certainly are. **

**And they're not always desirable effects, either. **

**Warnings: **AU, angst.

**Disclaimer:** Alas, I must say dear friends that I do not own the Lord of the Rings; all the wondrous inventions of Arda belong to Tolkien. _Sigh_, perhaps one day I will be able to gain ownership over them once I TAKE OVER THE WORLD! BWAHAHAHAHAHA -chokes-

But until that day I must suffice with borrowing. _Oh the tragedy of it all. . . . _

Secondly, before I go of and predict doom on us all: Any of the lyrics mentioned in this story belong to the bands/singers who wrote them. (I will put up specific disclaimers concerning each artist at the beginning of any chapter that contains the said artists' material).

**Note:**** Sindarin words are written in bold and a translation will be included at the end of each chapter. **

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Legolas slammed his fist into the door of his bedroom. _'This is ridiculous!' _he thought angrily, fighting against the savage fury that was slowly enveloping his mind. He sounded like a spoilt child and well he knew it. With a sigh that escalated into a moan of frustration he threw himself onto his bed and picked agitatedly at the intricately woven threads of his duvet. He didn't see what all the fuss was about. To his mind his **adar**was overreacting - badly. "Nothing new there," he muttered sullenly to himself. Rolling onto his back he glared at the arched ceiling as though it was the cause of his predicament.

And there he lay, grounded for skipping the morning's court session.

Grounded.

For a whole month.

'_Valar, I'm not a child anymore!' _thought Legolas acidly. _'He doesn't even have any right to ground me!'_

But when he thought on it, he supposed that being the King of Mirkwood meant he did have the right.

Legolas snorted.

Sometimes he _hated_ being the son of a king.

With passion.

The next morning found Legolas slouching down the spiralling staircase to breakfast. He felt livid; no banquets, no celebrations, no friends- for a whole _month!_ Still, he forced his emotions from his face before entering the dining room. He was not about to let his father see just how deep he had gotten under his skin.

Thranduil looked up from his plate when he heard the oaken door creak open and watched as his youngest child proceeded to take a seat at the massive table.

"Grounded for a month, are we? Maybe it'll teach you not to be such an arrogant little idiot," sneered Raedian, Legolas' older and notoriously rude brother. Legolas was about to open his mouth and tell Raedian just who exactly the idiot was, when Thranduil quickly intervened.

"Enough Raedian; that was uncalled for," he admonished tiredly, pouring himself more water.

Raedian just went back to his eggs and bacon with a slight smirk on his lips. Legolas wished his father wasn't present so he could wipe that maddening look of Raedian's obstinate, smug face, but then again that probably wasn't such a good idea as Raedian was well over a millennium older than him and inevitably a lot stronger. Instead, Legolas pronged a sausage, imagining it had long, wavy black hair just like the insufferable moron sitting opposite him.

"How goes the Eastern Border Patrol, Raedian? I heard you suffered losses from a surprise attack," inquired Thranduil in a subtle attempt at easing the stifling tension.

"Yes, we were caught off-guard thanks to the stupidity of a few certain warriors. The fools were dozing on their watch and we paid dearly: thirteen lives. _Novices,_" spat Raedian, and anyone listening who didn't know him well would've assumed that he thought being a novice was a crime worthy of execution by the tone he used. But that was just Raedian. It wouldn't have mattered if someone came up to him and told him he was now the sole ruler of Arda, he would still find something or someone to insult or moan about. That was how Eru created him.

Soon after Thranduil's failed attempt at a pacified conversation, Legolas stood up, ready to leave the room, and was about to make a quick exit when his father stopped him in his tracks. "I hope you're not about to go off gallivanting around outside, princeling?"

Legolas clenched his fists and took a deep breath. Whether the king had intentionally meant to sound patronizing, or if Legolas simply heard it that way due to his irate mood was entirely debateable. But either way, Legolas did not like it. Not one bit.

"No **Ada**, I am not," he answered with bare civility. Thranduil raised his eyebrows but made no other comment on the subject, allowing Legolas to leave the room.

'_Now to go and spend a whole month being bored out of mind! Ode to joy!' _thought Legolas sarcastically as he strode off down the hall.

"Your Highness?" Came a voice from behind him.

'_Oh, in the name of the Valar…' _

He turned around and laid eyes on his archery tutor gliding up the marble floor towards him. "Master Fortarthin," Legolas acknowledged impassively, wondering what he had come to ask.

"I was simply wondering why you are not out on such a fine morning, princeling," the archer stated in answer to Legolas' unspoken question, as though he could read Legolas' mind. In all honesty, Legolas wouldn't have been at all surprised if the Master archer _could_ read his mind.

He seethed inwardly; this was steadily becoming ludicrous. His intention was to try and put the whole business of being grounded _out _of his mind, but people were continuously shoving it straight back in! And that was the second time someone had addressed him as 'princeling' this morning. No, this was definitely not a good day. Fortarthin looked at him expectantly.

"I've been grounded," stated Legolas curtly.

"Oh?" said the Master archer in such a cool tone it made Legolas want to squirm and run off in the opposite direction, away from his formidable tutor.

"And what, might I ask, have you been grounded _for_ exactly?" continued Fortarthin in the same icy voice.

Now Legolas really wanted to bolt.

"Iskippedcourtyesterday," he mumbled incoherently, looking at anything but the towering figure before him.

"What was that, Your Highness? I didn't quite catch it."

"I said: I skipped court yesterday. Sir," he repeated more audibly, staring at his feet.

"Did you now?" the voice was dangerously soft.

'_Valar, Valar, Valar, Valar. . .' _

"Yes, Sir," Legolas managed to choke out.

"And what, pray, did you do that for, My Prince?" came the reply in a tone that would have made Sauron himself flee.

Legolas thought he was going to die.

"I don't know, Sir," he all but whispered, his voice deserting him.

"I see."

He could have sworn he caught a glimpse of Mandos' Halls at that moment.

But to his surprise Master Fortarthin twirled around and walked off, leaving an even paler than usual Legolas in his wake.

As the prince watched him go, just one thought crossed his mind –

_This was only the beginning. _

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**Adar/Ada – **_Father/Dad_

_I'd be really grateful if you'd tell me what you think so far – crap, crud or maybe decent?_


	2. Introducing Izzy

**AN****: sindarin words are written in bold and a translation will be included at the end of each chapter. **

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Isilihir ambled through yet another corridor and let out a long, audible sigh. Where _was_ his little brother when he was needed?

"Where in Arda…?" he muttered irritably, striding down one of the many magnificent passageways in his remarkably grand 'home'.

"Where are you, Legolas!?"

Legolas groaned. He either got Raedian's incessant slants or his eldest brother, Isilihir's incessant squawking.

Did it never end?

Leoglas had been happily dozing on a chair inside the library with a light breeze drifting over him, dreaming about beautiful maidens from a far-off land where miserable old archery tutors were banned from entering…

That was until an irate Isilihir barged through the door.

"Nnngghhh, G'way; I'm dreaming. . ."

"No you are not! You are coming with me and we are going straight to our father!" barked Isilihir in his usual commanding tone. He dragged his brother off the comfy chair and marched him to the door.

"Ow, don't pull my arm so hard! And why are we going to **ada**?" asked Legolas, rather unhappy at being awoken from his comfortable nap, to say the least.

"Because he wants to see you. Why else?! Now hurry _up_, it's taken me long enough to find you and I have what must be a hundred reports to write and Eru only knows how many messages to read, on top of just as many to send," grumbled Isilihir still marching along as if he were on duty. "And you are keeping me back from it all with your ridiculous misbehaviour and blatant disregard of any resemblance of authority and -- BLAST IT!!" he yelled, simultaneously wrenching Legolas' arm vigorously. "I HAVE TO VISIT THE TRAINING GROUNDS AND GIVE A PROGRESS ACCCOUNT ON THE CURRENT RECRUITS!!"

"Okay, okay I'm moving! And **saes **Izzy_, let go of my arm!_" yelled Legolas, attempting to disengage himself from Isilihir's grasp and get as far away as possible from his endless mind-boggling waffle.

"THEN _MOVE,_ YOU STUPID BOY!!"

After an escapade of arguing, sore arms, and many a flight of stairs, the brothers finally came to a stop outside the elaborately designed wooden door that barred the entry into their father's private quarters.

"Now: no cursing or violence, at least make an attempt at respect and in the name of patience, no more foolish disobedience!" commanded Isilihir glaring down at his younger brother, who was rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"Isilihir, really—"

"And no interruptions either!"

"You just interrupted me!" said Legolas indignantly.

"Don't be smart, you little fool! It won't get you anywhere." And with that, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood strode off to attend to his numerous duties.

Legolas made a rather impolite gesture at his brother, before turning back to face the door, that to his mind, suddenly looked quite imposing. Poising his hand to knock on his father's study, Legolas vaguely wondered why he had been summoned.

"Enter," came the reply. And so Legolas did enter, took one look at his father and thought, '_What on all good Arda have I done now?!'_

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**Ada** – _dad_

**Saes **– _please_

_Could you maybe, just possibly, if you have the time think about considering to be so good as to review? __*** **__smiles sweetly * _


	3. Arguments of the Royals

**Note:**** Sindarin words are written in bold and a translation will be included at the end of each chapter.**

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Legolas walked across the threshold towards his father, apprehension gnawing at his insides.

"I suppose you are wondering why you are here, **ion-nin**," his father began.

Legolas watched his father as he put down the quill he had been writing with, but made no reply to the assumption.

Unperturbed, Thranduil continued. "I was speaking to Master Fortarthin this morning; he mentioned that he'd had a rather 'interesting' encounter with you."

Legolas' stomach flipped uncomfortably. Thranduil looked at him as though waiting for a confirmation to his statement.

"Yes, I did speak with him today…" There was clearly a lot left unsaid.

"Then you will know what I am talking about when I pick up on one of his questions?"

"And what 'question' might that be?" It wasn't discreet knowledge that Legolas lacked the proper respect for his elders that one might expect of a prince.

"Why did you skip court yesterday?"

Legolas fought the urge to storm out right there and then. But he didn't, and he later wished that he had of, for it would've been better than the consequences his next impulsive comment brought upon him.

"I couldn't be bothered."

Thranduil stood up from his chair, his fists clenched by his side.

"You couldn't be bothered? You couldn't be bothered?! YOU ARE A PRINCE OF THIS KINGDOM AND YOU COULDN'T BE BOTHERED TO ATTEND TO YOUR DUTIES; TO ATTEND TO THE NEEDS OF YOUR PEOPLE?!"

Legolas didn't flinch; he didn't blink. In fact, the last comment didn't seem to have any effect on him at all.

He just stood there as though he couldn't have cared less, and the whole matter was simply just a waste of his time that he could have been spending doing other more utilitarian things.

The king strode towards his unruly son. Legolas stayed exactly where he was, refusing to back down.

"Do you have no interest in your kingdom?" hissed an infuriated Thranduil, now directly in front of the younger elf. "Does it mean nothing to you?"

Legolas just stared straight back at him, his face utterly devoid of emotion.

"Your brothers would never do this! Yes, they all have their faults, but they all know what their roles are in this world!" Thranduil's voice rose steadily louder. "But you! The only person you care about is yourself, you impudent child! You always have some more _important_ matter to attend to regardless of what you should be doing and when it should be done!" he snapped, incensed. "Your disobedience towards those of a higher position than you would not even be thought acceptable of an orphaned and homeless anarchist spending the majority of his time in a switch between committing arson and living in the dungeons!"

Legolas raised an eyebrow and looked at his father, an incredulous yet sneering expression present on his features. "An arsonist? What, would you like me to go outside and proceed in burning the forest to the ground?"

"Oh, you would truly delight in doing that, wouldn't you?" replied Thranduil sarcastically, averting his eyes away from Legolas and striding towards the window as though he couldn't bear to be near the prince any longer.

Legolas smirked.

"No, I'd rather delight in burning _you_ to the ground."

Something seemed to break in the king as he heard the words that every parent dreads to hear leave his son's mouth. It was as though something fragile and delicate - like glass, broke inside him; a thing that shouldn't have been broken. A thing that if broke, let something vicious and dangerous escape into the world. Something that should have been kept encased for eternity in that frail little glass box; that Pandora's Box.

Thranduil turned away slowly from the window to face his son and the wall of impenetrable silence that stood between them.

The realisation of what he had just said began to edge its way into Legolas' conscience. He hadn't meant to say that, but the damage had been irreversibly dealt.

"So, you would like to go down for treason then? Most fitting for a prince, I must say…" remarked Thranduil softly. "Or perhaps paying somebody else to do it would be the best way, although that wouldn't give you the same satisfaction."

Legolas said nothing.

"I wonder what I've ever done to deserve such malice from my own son…strange how none of my other children seem to hold the same detestation towards their father," he mused, gazing back towards the drapes fluttering against the window in the cool breeze.

"Perhaps you were born with a mutation in your personality."

The king managed to stay upright as his son made a frenzied lunge for his throat, but fell short due to the two guards who had been discreetly present during the verbal spar dragging him backwards.

Thranduil silently left the room without so much as a backward glance at Legolas who stood seething in the grips of the nervous guards.

"Get the hell off me," hissed the prince, turning his head towards one of his captors.

"I can't do that."

Legolas didn't fail to notice the absent title in the warrior's reply. He relented in his effort to free himself from the almost painfully tight grasp around the wrist of his raised fist.

Neither Legolas nor the guards sensed another presence as they left the study and started off down the corridor, but Isilihir certainly noticed them.

"You can let go off him, now," voiced Isilihir from directly behind the guards as they came to a halt outside their Head's office.

"But My Lord—" one of them began, having recovered from the initial shock.

"Yes, I am aware of the situation – perhaps you need to be more adept at sensing eavesdroppers if you are to maintain your position as guards of the King's quarters."

The two elves bowed sheepishly, after releasing Legolas.

"Go," ordered Isilihir, his tone clearly implying disbelief that they were still present.

Knowing not what they should do in the awkward circumstance they found themselves in, the warriors quickly dispersed, eager to get away from the whole scenario.

Legolas allowed himself a slight smirk as he watched the flustered elves practically run from their crown prince, but his face quickly straightened as Isilihir turned back towards him.

"To your quarters. Now."

Legolas didn't dare disagree.

* * *

Legolas sat on the corner of his bed and crossed his legs, watching his older brother as he closed the door of his bedroom.

Isilihir turned around and sat on the bed next to Legolas, without uttering a sound. Kicking off his shoes, he then proceeded to lie out flat on the soft sheets, stretching out his long legs and folding his hands behind his head with a sigh.

Legolas still sat cross-legged, unsure of what was coming next.

He certainly wasn't expecting Isilihir to grab him by the back of his shirt and haul him down onto his back next to him.

"Hey! What was that for?!" Asked Legolas angrily as he nearly rolled right off the side of the bed.

"Just shut-up will you, brat? Valar, your mouth never stops…"

"And yours does?" Legolas turned his head to look sceptically at his older brother.

Isilihir smiled. "No, you're probably right. But then again I usually have right reason to talk and I talk at the right times and in the right places. Unlike you."

Legolas closed his eyes. "If you came here to start lecturing me on do's and don'ts," he snapped heatedly, sitting upright again, "then you can—"

"Stop getting so agitated, Legolas," Isilihir interrupted coolly, yanking his brother back down again.

"I'm not getting agitated," ground out Legolas, staring up at the ceiling after hitting the mattress with a thud for the second time.

"But you are; it's plain to be seen."

"He said I had a mutation in my personality!" shouted Legolas, diving off the bed and out of reach from Isilihir.

"You said you wanted to kill him."

Legolas sat back down on the edge of the bed. "I didn't mean—He— it came out!" he finished somewhat lamely, not wishing to let the conversation go any further. Silence ensued. Flustered, he turned angrily to look at his brother. "Can't you just drop it, Izzy?!"

"No." Isilihir stated matter-of-factly. He knew exactly where the conversation was headed and how to steer it there.

"Isilihir just let it go! If you want to preach to me then just do it! Have a rant at me! Or let it go for Valar's sake! But don't sit there thinking you're all high and mighty; because you're not! You're just sticking your nose into other people's business!"

Isilihir stood up and marched towards Legolas, coming to a halt in front of him, using the full six inches he had over his younger brother to his advantage. _"Don't order me around! __You have no right to do so and perhaps you need to remember that!__" _he roared.

"Isilihir! --"

"DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO SPEAK?"

Legolas kept his silence.

"HOW DARE YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO SPEAK TO YOUR CROWN PRINCE IN SUCH A DISPICABLE MANNER?!"

Legolas took a step backwards.

"TO BE SPOKEN DOWN TO AND OUT- OF-PLACE, NONE THE LESS, BY SOMEONE WHO IN RANKS, IS BELOW ME IS SOMETHING I WILL NOT STAND FOR!"

Legolas backed up some more.

"SIT!" Yelled Isilihir, indicating for Legolas to sit down on the chair he had stumbled into in his blind retreat.

Legolas done so, as though he couldn't comply quickly enough.

"IS YOUR BEHAVIOUR ACCEPTABLE?"

"No, My Lord," came the shaky reply.

"IS IT UNACCEPTABLE JUST TOWARDS ME?!"

Legolas knew where Isilihir was headed. "No, My Lord."

"WHO ELSE IS IT UNACCEPTABLE TOWARDS?"

"The King, My Lord."

Isilihir took Legolas by the arm and steered him towards the bed again. Sitting down, he looked Legolas in the eye, all hints of his previous outburst dispersed. "Then why, Legolas? Why?"

Legolas felt his eyes well up with the threat of tears as he looked at the imploring look in his brother's grey eyes. He was still slightly shaken up by Isilihir's 'pull of rank'.

"I don't know, Izzy. I really don't…" Legolas' voice caught in his throat before he could finish all that he wanted to say, but he didn't need to finish it. Isilihir put an arm around him and let his little brother cry into his shoulder.

Silently gazing out of the window, Isilihir watched as the sun disappeared behind the duvet of green, letting the moon take over his position in the sky.

Time was a harsh thing.

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"You've hurt him, you know, father."

Thranduil looked up, startled by the voice. Isilihir, his eldest, was leaning on the doorframe.

'_Why did I not hear him enter?' _he thought to himself. He supposed it was due to the fact that he had been too lost in his own sorrow after the argument with Legolas he'd had the previous day.

Thranduil let out a long sigh. "I know, Isilihir, I know," he said tiredly.

"A mutation…?" Isilihir walked into the room and stood before the desk.

"He said he wanted to burn me alive!" retorted Thranduil pre-emptively.

"You sound like a child." answered Isilihir simply.

Thranduil closed his eyes. "What am I supposed to do?" the king asked exasperatedly. 

"Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" Thranduil looked at Isilihir.

"Mean that you thought his personality had a mutation."

"No, of course not! He just… he frustrates me – no that's not it…He _hurts_ me, Isilihir. His words; they're spiked like barbed wire."

"You think he meant what he said?"

"I don't know Isilihir, I honestly don't know anymore."

Isilihir looked down at his despondent father.

"He attacked me…"

"And? If you had said the same words to Raedian he would've done more than attack you," answered Isilihir indifferently. "That's what they're both like – they punch through people with their words; it doesn't mean they always mean what they say. They're impulsive."

"But Raedian wouldn't say things like that to me in general! He'd only say it if I deserved to hear it!"

"Are Raedian and Legolas twin brothers?"

"Isilihir, this is going no-where…"

"No, father, come on; answer the question. Are they the same?"

"No."

"So, they react and respond differently?"

"Yes."

"Some people take out conflicting emotions on those they love."

"What are you insinuating?"

"He's stressed. He's a prince; he's got the right to be stressed. We all react differently to it. His way to deal with it is to take it out on others. Especially those he loves. I've felt his sting, too, you know. We all have. You get the brunt of it because you respond negatively – you sting back, but not in the way Raedian or any of the rest of his siblings would, because that's to be expected. We're brothers; we'll always fight and argue and hurt each other no matter how old we become. But you're his father, you're not meant to do that because you're supposed to be the stable one who can reprimand and scold and teach lessons, but who can still show that they can _love. _Repaying an impulsive comment isn't the way to go about it." Isilihir leant off the table and moved back towards the door. "I'm sorry if I sounded patronising, but it was for the better."

"No, don't apologise. You're right, and you're also a father – you should know what you're talking about." Thranduil smiled appreciatively at his son.

"I hope so."

"What would you do if one of your children told you that they wanted to kill you?"

Isilihir stopped halfway through the threshold. "Who can tell…?"

"You speak like Gandalf."

"Perhaps you need to speak to the real one." Isilihir gave his father a wry look.

Thranduil motioned him out of the door with a shake of his head, although his lips were turned up at the corners.

It was just moments later that a rather belated came to Thranduil. "Isilihir…?"

"Hmm…?" Came the reply from down the corridor.

"I didn't know you made a habit of eavesdropping."

"That was rather slow in sinking in, father. You must be getting old."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. That wasn't the only reason I told you to go and converse with Gandalf."

Thranduil guffawed.

He'd have to tell the wizard that one.

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**Ion-nin – **_my son_

**Adar/Ada – **_Father/Dad_

_Review?_

_* Hopeful smile * _


	4. Eyes Speak a Million Words

**Disclaimer: The lyrics mentioned in this chapter belong to the Goo Goo Dolls.**

**Note:**** Sindarin words are written in bold and a translation will be included at the end of each chapter. **

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Legolas walked down the long corridor towards his father's study, his feet making no sound. _'At least Izzy's not pulling my arm out of its socket this time,' _he thought with a small sense of reassurance. He was not all that confident in the decision he had come to earlier that day; he wasn't all that sure on how his father would react upon seeing him. Still, as Legolas steadily made his way towards his destination he decided that he done the right thing in telling Isilihir to mention to their father that he wanted to talk with him. He had at least been given some form of forewarning. Feeling slightly nervous as he knocked on the study door, Legolas hoped that 'forewarning' wouldn't turn out to be the best definition in the long run.

"Come in, Legolas," was the reply.

"**Mae govannen**, **adar**," Legolas greeted rather gingerly as he walked through the door and into the soft light of the beautiful room.

"**Mae govannen, ion-nin**, and you are 'well met', so there's no need to look so petrified," welcomed Thranduil, with a look of amusement upon his face.

Legolas smiled sheepishly and took the seat that Thranduil beckoned him into.

"So, what is you want to speak to me of?" the king asked.

"The argument," Legolas replied after a moment's hesitation, not looking his father directly in the eye.

"What about the argument have you got to say?"

Legolas' head snapped up. _'Got to say? What, is this his 'subtle' way to get me to apologise!?' _Anger momentarily flashed through his eyes, but Thranduil was looking away at the time and didn't see it. Calming himself, Legolas resolved to let his father have his say before he lurched head-long into another shouting match. Perhaps he had simply mistaken his father's words.

"That I shouldn't have snapped at you…" Legolas answered. He still had not looked his father in the eye.

Thranduil didn't fail to notice this fact. _'If this 'apology' is as sincere as he gets… Perhaps Isilihir set him up to it.' _

Legolas looked up and saw many things that he would have done well without seeing.

He saw the disbelief and mistrust in his father's eyes. But his oversensitive mind saw displeasure and scorn as well. Neither of those emotions where there to be found.

And Thranduil too saw many things in his son's eyes that he need not have. And many things that also, where not there.

"So, you want me to take the full blame for all of this?" Spat Legolas incredulously, referring to the precarious relationship the two (regrettably) antagonists shared.

"If you would _deign _to even think about apologising…!" Thranduil quickly recovered from Legolas' sudden outburst.

"You know what, _father?! _Forget about trying to rebuild our relationship – it doesn't exist anymore! I'll always be an incorrigible, psychotic vandal to you, and you'll always be an arrogant, snide, dictator to me! I don't care what you have to say. Keep your abrasive remarks; your eyes tell it all."

"And your eyes tell me all…"

With that, Legolas stormed from the room, not looking back, for if he had done so he would've seen the grief that filled his fathers face, and if he hadn't have ran so fast down the corridors he wouldn't have missed the misery – filled sob that came out of the King of Mirkwood.

And if he had have turned back . . .

. . . he would've found his father collapsed on the desk; crying.

For everyone,

And for no one to see.

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_**And you can't fight the tears that ain't comin'. . . **_

_- _'Iris', the Goo Goo Dolls.

Legolas ran and ran; through passageways, down stairs, across halls; until he found himself outside, leaning against a column with the rain pelting down on him relentlessly, but he was completely unaware of it.

He stared into nothingness, but no tears ran down his cheeks, for there were none to fall.

He didn't know how long he sat there in the freezing cold, dwelling in his anger; his misery.

_His father hated him. _

But Legolas was almost past caring.

He was strong mentally and usually had a good way of controlling his emotions. He had, to his shame, already broken down once that week into his brother's shoulder and he was not about to let his feelings take over again.

So he just sat there, his mind running through thoughts that only he could ever know.

"My Lord, you should be in your quarters. I was under the impression that being grounded means that one is not allowed to leave their home."

Legolas snapped out of his reverie and looked up. It was Fortarthin.

Without a word he stood up and started to stride towards the palace. It suddenly dawned on him that it was night time and that he was thoroughly drenched to the bone. He vaguely wondered just how long he had been leaning against the marble pillar.

"Legolas," Fortarthin got to the real point he was trying to make. "What are you doing out here? It is well past midnight and has been raining for the last five hours, four of which I am told, you have been sitting here." His voice was soft and the concern was evident.

Legolas came to a stop at hearing this revelation.

"Come," Fortarthin commanded gently, draping his cloak over Legolas' sodden form and proceeded to lead the younger elf inside away from the many millions of spears being thrown down from the heavens and the fire that lit up the otherwise pitch black skies.

"I'll not bother asking what is wrong, for I know you aren't going to give an answer," stated Fortarthin, once he had got Legolas back to his rooms and lit the fire.

Legolas said nothing. He just gazed at the deadly destruction jumping around in the hearth.

"I will leave you in peace then, for I believe it is peace that you need." Fortarthin could think of nothing else to say. Legolas truly wasn't acting his self. "If my hearing has not deceived me, I am quite sure that the guards outside your door are under orders to lock it once I go." Still no response.

The Master Archer took one last look at the forlorn Prince sitting on the corner of his bed wrapped in three layers of blankets and staring incessantly at the fire as though he suffered from some form of pyromania. Fortarthin took his leave, wondering what it was that bothered his prince so much that he was driven into such a state of despair.

Sure enough, the sound of a key being turned in a lock resounded through the empty corridor as Fortarthin glided down the stairs three at a time.

He wasn't altogether sure on what to make of the whole situation. It was…strange.

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"Where's Legolas?" asked Silithion, the following morning.

"In his room," came the snappy reply.

"I take it you two still aren't on good terms, then." It wasn't a question.

"No, we're not! – how very _observant_ of you Sili!" came the over – dramatic retort.

Thranduil glared at his child daring him to take the matter further, but he was too busy munching on an apple to take much notice. The fact that Silithion was actually downstairs eating in the dining-room of his own accord was an amazement in itself. Thranduil usually had to order him down (he would otherwise get the servants to bring him his food claiming that 'It takes too long to come down the stairs and I can't be bothered walking such a distance.'). In actual fact it was only two flights – you could get from his bedroom to the dining room inside a minute. But today it seemed that Silithion could be bothered, which was unfortunate for Thranduil as he wished for nothing but that everyone would leave him be.

And since nobody was complying with his wishes, king or no king, he decided that he would go somewhere where they would have no choice but to leave him be.

His bedroom.

So up he got up and stalked off, leaving Silithion to finish his blasted apple.

With a sigh, the King of Mirkwood entered his room, collapsed on his bed and let the overpowering depression creep into his mind.

_His son hated him. _

* * *

Legolas was washing his face in cold water at exactly the same time his father had retreated to his bedroom, leaving half of his breakfast unfinished. The assault of the freezing water on his senses was helping to clear his troubled mind.

Grabbing a towel off the pile, he sat on the edge of the bath and patted his face dry.

'_I need to go out!' _his mind screamed, as he bored holes into the door, as though attempting to break through it and escape.

Chucking the towel across the floor, he flopped onto his bed, not bothering to put a shirt on.

He listened to the sound of the warriors in the practice field and felt a pang of annoyance, which gradually escalated into pure jealousy. He should have been out there with his bow, outclassing everyone else!

Except Master Fortarthin that was.

Well, he _was_ the archery tutor and after all, regardless of how good Legolas was he was one of his students and it wouldn't do for a student to be more skilful than their teacher. Still, he hoped to be better than him one day – Fortarthin had actually told him on more than one occasion that he could easily be so before he was much older.

'_Not if I keep getting locked in my room I won't,' _he sulked to himself.

Still sulking when a servant came in an hour later, he watched as the elf tentatively left down his breakfast on a nearby table. The poor fellow looked very worried; he was probably half expecting Legolas to make a run for it, now he had a chance to gain his freedom. But Legolas didn't bolt. He merely looked on in amusement as the servant scampered back out as quickly as he had come in, fumbling with the key to lock the door.

He had absolutely no intention of dragging himself off the bed and pick up the meal that had been left, although if he was honest with himself he knew he could've done with it as he hadn't ate since that time the previous day.

'_Ai, I sound like Silithion,' _thought Legolas to himself. He wondered where his brother was; he hadn't seen him in a while.

'_Correction, I __never__ see him, the lazy twit.' _ By this, Legolas was simply referring to the fact that Silithion rarely bothered to come out of his room. He was quite content to lie in his bed and sleep. 

'_I'm going to be doing a lot of that now, too,' _he thought despondently, as the events of last night came flowing back into the fore-front of his mind.

With an irritated sigh, he rolled over onto his side and attempted to catch up on some missed sleep.

Mere seconds had gone by before he was on his feet again, charging into the bathroom to return with a glass of water which he promptly chucked all over the cat sitting on the window.

It didn't stay at the window for long.

The poor thing had only been meowing for its daily food and the prince had never failed to feed it before.

Legolas slumped back onto the bed as the drenched cat slunk off crying pitifully, her hair on end, and ears flat back against her head.

The prince was already feeling guilty.

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**Mae Govannen – **_Well met_

**Adar – **_Father _

**Ion-nin – **_My son_

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_Thanks to german_girl and MDarkspIrIt for such nice reviews- it means a lot to me! _

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_Review? Pretty please? _


	5. Taming the Wild Child

**Disclaimer: ****The lyrics mentioned in this chapter belong to Jimmy Eat World.**

**Note:**** Sindarin words are written in bold and a translation will be included at the end of each chapter. **

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Legolas pushed the bedcover away from his body and stretched the kinks out of his muscles.

Over the past few hours he had been contemplating over his rugged relationship with his father (having seemingly given up on trying to get to sleep).

His thoughts drifted back to the time when his mother had sailed across the sea to Aman: His dad had become more distant and less parental. He spent less time with his sons and more time alone. Legolas reckoned this was the start of his so – called 'rebellious nature'. After all, he had only been a very young elfling when his mother had chosen to sail to Valinor. He remembered spending time with his brothers – they were almost like joint fathers to him, especially Isilihir. They were the ones he would go to if he had a problem or needed somebody to confide in; they were the ones that cared for him.

They loved him.

Even Raedian.

He would never go and talk to his father, or at least rarely at any rate. He felt that his father would not want to hear it - that being the King of Mirkwood he was too busy. Isilihir was the Crown Prince meaning he had almost the same amount of work as his father, but yet he still found time to be with his little brother, as well as his own children, the eldest, being actually slightly older than Legolas himself.

Legolas burned inside.

Isilihir might as well have been his father – Thranduil certainly wasn't.

Years went by and as Legolas got older his attitude worsened. He would cause trouble, get in fights and act brash at times. But he was very different around his friends. They all knew him as a laughing, mischievous prankster – and he was, that wasn't an act and he knew so because it felt so _natural._ But it was almost as though he had two faces; two personalities.

And he loved it.

Yet he hated it.

He enjoyed being a rebel.

But he longed to be consistent.

It was his way to deal with the stress of losing a parent at such a tender age, of growing up without ever spending valuable time with his one remaining parental figure.

Some would call it attention seeking.

Legolas wouldn't –it wasn't as shallow as that.

* * *

_**Can't say I was never wrong,**_

_**But some blame rests on you.**_

_-'Work', Jimmy Eat World._

Thranduil sat in one of the many drawing rooms, contemplating.

Contemplating on why Legolas chose to be how he was.

And whilst doing so, he realised that it was partially his fault.

When his wife had sailed, he had become lost. He didn't know what to do – she had been the other part of him. He was often impatient and cynical; her patience was infinite and she overflowed with optimism. They balanced each other out perfectly.

But when she left, there was no one to create equilibrium.

Thranduil closed up – he couldn't help it. He had always been there for his other sons, but they were all born long before the Shadow fell over Greenwood the Great.

Legolas was born over a millennium afterwards and Thranduil found it increasingly difficult to manage his constantly threatened kingdom, whilst spending time with his youngest child.

He didn't realise at the time just how badly Legolas was affected.

But he should have seen. . .

It was inevitable.

For a start, the boy was a prince born in the midst of the most chaotic period his people had ever seen. The duties he was born to hold were roughly thrown onto his young shoulders long before they should have been.

It would affect anybody.

That alone would've been bad enough, but mixed with the fact that he lost his mother when he was still a child. . .

It was no wonder he lost his way.

He had started to cause trouble as an elfling – not the harmless pranks of children; more sinister - there was almost _hate_ involved.

It was something akin to self-hate, but it was hard to pick out and define.

As he got older, that became a part of his character; a part that had an almost unknown origin to everyone – even to Legolas himself.

And Thranduil knew that it was exactly that that made his son's attitude even worse. He was confused; lost – he couldn't tell why he was like that, he didn't know.

It was a part of him that was almost out-of-place.

Thranduil only wanted to help him but it always seemed to come out wrong.

His wife wouldn't have messed everything up – she would've known exactly what to do and how to do it. She had been like that; it was a gift that everyone had admired. Even Galadriel, the Lady of Light had remarked on that exceptional talent of psychological understanding.

The king wished with all his heart that his queen would return to him.

But she wasn't coming back.

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Legolas quietly crawled out of his window and landed nimbly on the rooftop of the palace courtyard.

'_How could father be so __foolish__ as to forget that I could easily climb out of the window?' _he thought incredulously. _'Or maybe he hasn't forgot... I'd better keep vigil, just in case.' _

So with that, he leapt lightly onto the forest ground and made for the moonlit trees. Legolas had an amazing talent for stealth, so he found it no hard chore to get to the safe coverage of the forest without being spotted by the guards.

He decided to make his way deeper into the forest, keeping his ears open for any sound of nearby danger; spiders and orcs were no rarities in Mirkwood.

Of course, the young prince had absolutely no intention of leaving Mirkwood itself, or going too far into the forest.

'_Let father sweat a while, see how reacts to my disappearance.' _Legolas smirked to himself.

It was just as Legolas was enjoying his twisted mirth that he heard a voice from directly behind him.

"Going somewhere?"

Legolas span around quicker than the eye could see, going for his sword hilt.

He let his hand slide numbly off the weapon and back down to his side.

------------------------------

"Um, what are you doing out here, S-sir?"

"Catching a fugitive adolescent," stated the archer moving out of the shadows.

That same emotionless, cool voice was present, as ever.

'_I'm dead,' _Thought Legolas with surprising calmness.

"Come now, My Lord, let us return to the palace."

It was then that Legolas noticed that Fortarthin was carrying a length of rather formidable looking rope in his hand.

He didn't dare guess what that was for.

Fortarthin noticed the prince looking at the object he held and said bluntly (but still in his characteristically cool tone) "That will be used if you put up a fight, Your Highness."

'_Valar, he puts it straight.' _

Legolas couldn't resist a small shudder.

Fortarthin moved behind Legolas and gave him a slight shove, clearly indicating that he should move in the direction of the palace.

So Legolas began to walk.

But there was no way on Arda that he was simply going to comply.

One minute Legolas was walking towards home, and the next he had bolted like a hare being chased by the hounds. Or that was the idea. Fortarthin seemed to have another in mind. He lunged after the escapee and grabbed hold of his arms to minimise the frantic struggling.

"Enough tricks for one night, I think."

Fortarthin was a lot taller and far stronger than Legolas and so didn't have too much difficulty in dragging the frenzied youth back onto the path.

Legolas was calling out for Fortarthin's blood at the top of his lungs, but he quietened down considerably when the Master archer brought forth the long rope.

"I hold to my threats, Legolas, being one of my students you should know that."

Legolas yelped as he was shoved down to the ground and landed hard on his knees. Fortarthin was behind him in a flash, putting his full weight on his legs, reducing the prince's capability of movement. Legolas winced at the painful pressure. Pulling the young elf's hands behind his back, Fortarthin quickly bound them.

Legolas soon realised that Fortarthin was no amateur when it came to tying knots and that he also liked to tie them tight.

Very tight.

With that done, the master archer stood up and dragged a now tamed Legolas up with him.

"Now, Your Highness. Let us continue."

Legolas could have sworn that there was mirth hidden behind those words and if looks could kill…

… Fortarthin would've been dead once over for every single one of his long years.

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_Wr – Wr – Wr - Write a Review!!!_


	6. That's Paradoxical

**Note:**** Sindarin words are written in bold and a translation will be included at the end of each chapter. **

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Legolas stood in the middle of the palace courtyard, rubbing his raw wrists. His escape plan had been foiled – badly. All he wanted to do was to crawl back into bed and wish that none of this had ever happened, but now that the whole palace was awake and aware of his little escapade…

"Legolas what were you thinking?! You could have got yourself killed! Have you no idea of the danger you put yourself in?!" bawled Isilihir.

"What in Udûn did you think you were playing at, you stupid, foolish boy?!" Raedian howled.

Even Silithion was outside.

"Why have you got to cause so much trouble Legolas, why?!"

Huirlith just gazed on with a strange look upon his face.

To Legolas, it appeared condemning; so hideously out of place on his usually happy and dreamy countenance.

It almost scared him.

And then he was aware of all the murmurs, the crowd, the stares.

'_Shut up! Valar, just shut __up!__' _ His head was pounding – a paradox. Elves didn't get ailments such as headaches.

But yet he had one…

And so the noise went on and on, but to Legolas it seemed to be fading, diminishing.

"_Don't just __stand__ there Huirlith – SAY SOMETHING," _an enragedRaedian ordered his brother.

Legolas felt dizzy.

And then his father was suddenly standing before him.

His face blank, lacking expression.

He just stared down at his son.

Stared.

And stared.

And stared.

And then he was gone and Legolas was being whisked inside.

'_By whom?' _his foggy mind tried to decipher the voices around him.

He felt sick. That was impossible, but no – he definitely felt ill.

"What was the purpose in that, Legolas?" General Tyrilden probed.

No answer.

"Legolas!" Fortarthin snapped, thoroughly agitated by the youth's disrespect.

Legolas blinked.

"What…?" He didn't look at all good. In fact, he looked dreadful. His face was gaunt and had an almost greyish tinge about it. His eyes: bleary, clearly (and truthfully) showed that he honestly hadn't heard Tyrilden speak.

Fortarthin glanced worriedly at the General.

"My Lord, I think you should sit down for a moment…" Tyrilden ventured.

Legolas looked on the verge of collapse.

But the Prince just gave his head a slight shake, his forehead now glistening with sweat.

The two elders were beginning to get seriously concerned as the entourage continued on.

But Legolas wasn't aware.

His mind was spinning, his steps faltering and before he knew it, he had plunged into a black oblivion.

Fortarthin seen it coming.

With remarkable reflexes, he easily caught Legolas as he pitched forwards towards the ground, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"Fetch a healer! NOW!" Tyrilden barked at the astonished guards who were accompanying them.

The two shocked warriors scampered off in the direction of the infirmary.

"Sweet Elbereth," muttered Fortarthin, laying Legolas carefully on the ground. The youth's eyes were unnaturally closed, indicating just how serious a state he was currently in.

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"Sweet Elbereth," the Master Archer repeated. He had just finished putting Legolas in the recovery position and was now waiting with an anxious Tyrilden for the physician to arrive. They glanced at each other and their faces both mirrored the others thoughts: _What was wrong with Legolas?_

_Was he going to be alright?_

Elves did not simply just faint.

It was unheard of, unless of course they had just suffered an injury. But both Fortarthin and Tyrilden were skilled warriors and hence knew when somebody had sustained an injury which was bad enough for them to pass out from, and they also could tell when one hadn't acquired such a wound.

Both warriors were affirmative to the fact that Legolas had no such injury.

And it was that fact that was worrying them.

No shorter than a minute later (although it seemed far longer to the two consternated elders) three healers arrived on the scene and began to check the unconscious Prince over.

"We will need to move him to the infirmary," one stated after checking for any immediate reasons that could have caused the lapse of consciousness.

"Is it safe to pick him up?" asked Fortarthin, his eyebrows furrowed in anxiety.

"Yes, we can find no serious problems that may have caused this, so it should be perfectly alright to move him."

Without further ado, General Tyrilden gathered Legolas up into his arms as easily as though he were a sack of feathers and followed the healer back down the corridor at a brisk pace.

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"Put him down on that bed over in the corner," said the physician, gesturing to one of the more secluded parts of the room. Fortarthin pushed the curtain back and let Tyrilden go in front of him and lay his burden down on the soft mattress.

Legolas still showed no signs of stirring.

"Do you know what the matter could be?" asked Tyrilden getting impatient with the lack of information the healers were presenting.

"I will have to check first before I can start making assumptions," replied the physician patiently. "Tell me," he went on to ask. "Has he been acting, say…" he paused for a moment. "…strangely?"

"What do you mean by 'strangely'?" replied Fortarthin cautiously.

"I mean 'out-of-character'. Perhaps depressed or more secluded than usually?"

"No, not that any of us know of! And what has that got to do with anything?" Tyrilden's anger flared up.

"Yes, yes he has been…" spoke Fortarthin softly, recognition dawning in his eyes.

He was not a bit slow.

"What? What are you talking about?!" Tyrilden was becoming more confused and certainly more irked by the minute, both emotions that were rare to be found when concerning the always bright and placid general.

Fortarthin and the healer shared a look of understanding.

"Come, **mellon-nin**," said Fortarthin to the worked-up officer. "I will explain once we are outside."

When Thranduil got news of Legolas' collapse he very nearly fainted himself. Isilihir paled - (not that he could've paled much more to begin with, but he managed it nonetheless), and Raedian opened his mouth and shut it again, in a very close resemblance to a fish.

With that, all six members of the Royal House of Mirkwood made a dash for the infirmary.

For the seventh still lay there, oblivious of everything.

'"W-What's wrong with him?!" Raedian squawked in a pitch very much higher than usual, his usually spiteful attitude nearly lost in the midst of the panic.

Nearly, but not quite.

The healer looked down at the herbs he was mixing. "I don't know, My Lords."

And if the King and his sons hadn't been so panicked, or if they had been looking into his eyes, they would've realised.

Realised that the healer was lying.

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**Mellon-nin – **_My friend_

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_Singing opera: REEEEE__VVVVIIIIIEEEEWWWWWWWWWW _-(room shakes).


	7. Healing the Hurts

**Disclaimer:**** The lyrics mentioned in this chapter belong to Linkin Park.**

**Note:**** Sindarin words are written in bold and a translation will be included at the end of each chapter. **

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Legolas moaned, causing Silithion to jerk upright.

"You with me, Las?"

"…Sili? Is that you?" Legolas groaned feeling very disorientated.

"Yes, it's me." Sili smiled down at his little brother.

"Wow. You're actually _up_. I'm truly amazed." Legolas put a hand to his forehead; he was parched and his stomach was growling and – _'Hang on,' _he thought, looking around.

"I'm in the infirmary…" Legolas stated dazedly.

"You sure are. Don't you remember?"

"Wha…?" He started to say, but his mind decided to take that moment to throw the memories back in. "I _fainted._" He let out a moan and sank back down onto the pillows.

"Hey, it's not _that_ bad…well…"

"Shut UP, Sili."

"Now, now, brat - I'm more than adequate at throwing a good punch you know."

"Whatever."

Sili grinned. "How about some food for the poor little sick puppy?"

"That'd be good," said Legolas, choosing to ignore the condescending slant. After all, being the youngest brother meant such mocks were inevitable.

With that, Silithion left the room.

Legolas closed his eyes in agony. _'Oh Valar, the healers know, they have to know! Have they told father?! No, surely not, but they would have to wouldn't they? He's their King; they have no right to withhold such information from him! What if they've told my brothers – they'll loathe me; they'll never talk to me again. But Sili's been sitting here the whole time…Maybe they haven't got round to telling him! Or maybe he's just putting on a façade!' _And such were the manner of Legolas' thoughts that he nearly brought himself to a state of hyperventilation.

Silithion came back and Legolas put on a brave face, trying his hardest not to show his fear; he was a good actor. However, when Silithion told him that he had to leave (Legolas was quite surprised to find that it was not to go and sleep) he freaked out.

For the person taking Sili's place as vigil was his father.

Of course he waited until his brother had left the room before he started his panic attack.

"My Lord!" a healer cried rushing in to try and calm the now frantic Prince down. After a good three or so minutes, he emerged victorious and began insisting that Legolas should take another form of hideous potion. Or 'poison', as Legolas preferred to call it.

In the end, the poor healer was nearly forced to give up.

It was at this time, Thranduil walked in through the door and became involved in the scene.

"Now My Lord, you really _must_ take this…" the healer's patience was running thin.

"I DON'T NEED IT!" an exasperated Legolas bawled back.

Thranduil felt the corners of his mouth turn up.

"You really do have quite a stubborn son, My Liege," remarked Tyrilden from the doorway, amusement glinting in his soft eyes.

"I wonder where he gets that from?" said Thranduil with a laugh.

Legolas, now aware of the other presences just collapsed back down on the bed, giving up and finally allowing the healer to quite literally force the concoction down his rebellious throat.

Grinning, Tyrilden left the room along with the healer who had also started to grin, although his was more in accordance with a smirk of satisfied mirth, rather than pure amusement.

Legolas, on the other hand did not find it at _all_ funny.

He glared at the older elves wishing slow and painful deaths to be dealt upon their souls.

Well… Maybe not _that_ harsh.

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_**I don't know what I'm fighting for,**_

_**Or why I have to scream.**_

_**I don't know why I instigate,**_

_**And say what I don't mean.**_

_-'Breaking the Habit', Linkin Park._

"How do you feel, Legolas?" asked Thranduil and one could've interpreted the tone he used as 'gingerly' – he was still painfully aware of their current relationship.

"Okay."

'_Well, at least I got a response,' _thought Thranduil, with a small sense of hope. He took a deep breath…

"I know why you hate me, Legolas, and if I was in your position I would hate me too," said Thranduil steadily.

Legolas didn't make a reply but it was clear that Thranduil had his attention.

"I've put you through a lot and I know I shouldn't have done so, it's just that things are hard and –" The king sighed and banged his head back against the wall. Legolas glanced towards him.

"I don't know what I'm saying Legolas. I can't say it –it always comes out wrong." Thranduil closed his eyes.

"I can speak in front of thousands with ease, I can hold court sessions every day of my life where one wrong judgement or decision can cost dozens of innocent lives, I can negotiate with the enemy in the toughest of situations and I can empower my people with courage and fervour with just a few mere words, but I can't speak to my own son and make the right choices when it comes to matters concerning him."

Legolas continued to watch his father.

"Maybe you just don't get enough practice."

The implications of the sentence were crystal-clear.

"The sooner I start practicing, the better, I guess," stated the king assiduously trying to avoid Legolas' barbed tongue.

"Yes, I suppose so," answered Legolas unconcernedly.

"So if I say that I'm sorry for what I said yesterday, is that a start?"

"Of sorts." It was almost as though Legolas was making it as hard as possible for his father.

"I'm sorry for my words last night and for the ones previously when I compared you with an anarchist and said that you had a mutation in your personality." Thranduil fought the urge to wince in case Legolas took it the wrong way.

A silence ensued, and then – "I'm sorry for telling you that I wanted to…" Legolas' voice cracked. There was a pause; the tension and dubiety was almost suffocating.

Legolas flung his arms around his father.

"…kill you," he finished his sentence.

Thranduil returned the embrace and stroked his son's hair lovingly as he whispered that it was okay and that he forgave him, tears also running down his face as he heard the words: "I forgive you, too."

Father and son sat like that for a long time and perhaps even Mirinel, wife and mother, would be gazing at them lovingly from the Undying Lands.

That night Legolas was alone. The room was peaceful and the light of the crescent moon shone in through the window.

He felt a relief wash over him now that he had talked with his father. He felt so much better, so much more _alive _and less confused.

But one thing still plagued his mind.

And he needed an answer.

"Kethiron," softly, he called the name of the healer who had been caring for him over the past two nights.

"Yes, milord." Kethiron walked in to where Legolas sat, upright on the bed.

"You know don't you? Know why I fainted?" His voice was calm.

The healer inclined his head.

"Aye, I do."

"Are you going to tell my family?" His voice still held onto its calm tone.

The healer looked at him for a few moments, deciding on what to say.

Legolas stared back, his gaze steady and unwavering.

"No, Your Highness. Neither I nor any other healer who is aware will ever tell any other member of your house. I swear this on my life," he finished solemnly.

"Thank you, Kethiron."

_Now he could rest in peace. _

The healer smiled.

"**Losto vae**."

Legolas did just that, content on the knowledge that his family would never know.

Never know what he had done.

What he _did_ do.

Never know…

…That he would sit in his room at night…

…And smoke that blessed,

Yet abominable substance.

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_**Losto vae – **__Sleep well_

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_REVIEW!!!!_**– Screeches like a banshee. **


	8. We All Keep Secrets

**Answer to Galinda-girl's question:**He's about 16-17, roughly. No older than that though. But yes, you're right; he is very modern in this. My intention was to create a Legolas that was a lot younger than he's usually depicted as. To do this, I had to make the way he acted a lot more 'teenager-ish' so that people can see the difference in age between him and say, Elrond. Secondly, it doesn't actually say much about him in the books - I understand you haven't read them – sorry! That sounded rude! No offence meant! But it never states his age or in fact anything about him whatsoever. All we know is that he was an archer from Mirkwood, and he was the King's son. It does make reference, though, to the fact that he was 'strange', and we don't know why Tolkien said this, so you could maybe take it quite literally. He also has a sort of teenage-tantrum in Lothlorien and some of the things he says can be slightly cheeky in a subtle way, so in the end, he's kind of a character that can be interpreted in many different ways.

Sincere apologies for the rant, but I hope it makes my characterisation of him a bit clearer. :)

**Warnings: Mild implied drug use.**

**Note:**** Sindarin words are written in bold and a translation will be included at the end of each chapter. **

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"Can I leave now?" asked Legolas of Kethiron the next morning.

"No, My Lord, we think it best if you stay another night – fainting from drug abuse is no minor thing."

Legolas sighed. "Do I really have to?" he whined.

The healer smiled. "Yes, My Lord, you really have to."

Legolas was about to open his mouth to protest when the healer quickly put in, "By order of Prince Isilihir."

"You got him to _order_ me to stay here?!" Legolas asked sceptically.

"Yes, I did," came the amused reply.

Legolas rolled his eyes. He _hated_ it when his father was away on duty and had to leave the Crown Prince as the substitute King. Izzy was so incredibly bossy!

'_He doesn't even know why I'm being asked to stay! Or does he..? _'

Legolas' heart momentarily skipped a beat and he glanced at the healer. Kethiron knew exactly what was on his patient's mind and he just shook his head saying earnestly, "I swore, Your Highness. I swore."

Legolas nodded, his heart returning to its normal speed and replied, "And I trust that you'll keep to that oath. But I'm still not happy at having to stay another night!" he finished with a look on his face akin to that on a small child's when they don't get their own way.

The healer couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Legolas glared at him.

"Now, now Your Highness, behave or I will have to force more 'poison' down your throat," threatened the healer jokingly.

"I give up," muttered a defeated and thoroughly exhausted Legolas.

Legolas lay on the infirmary bed and mused over the events of the last few days. It came as quite a shock to him that he'd actually fainted from taking **gellgalas**. He'd never been affected negatively by it before – this was the first time. He thought it strange at first; he hadn't increased the amount he was taking or mixed it with anything else. But after several minutes of 'interrogations' (Legolas thought them annoyingly redundant at the time) the healers came to a unanimous conclusion that it was due to the fact he had smoked some without having ate in about two days. When Legolas thought back on it, he realised he hadn't actually ate properly in about a week, and to his irritation, the healers managed to riddle that out of him too, which resulted in a _very_ long and tedious lecture about 'healthy eating.'

Well, Legolas supposed it wasn't really all that clever to take drugs after half starving yourself; there were bound to be consequences.

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"Are you happy, Legolas?" asked Kethiron, totally out of the blue.

"What?"

"Are you happy?"

"I guess so…" Legolas was curious to where this conversation was headed.

"What if you stopped taking **gellgalas**; would you be happy then?" he wasn't beating about the bush.

"Yes! I don't use drugs for happiness!" Legolas snapped.

"Do you feel stressed?"

"No!" Legolas was feeling very uneasy now.

"So you'd rather live a lie than try to sort yourself out," inquired the healer coldly.

"It's not a lie!" Legolas' voice was steadily rising, as was his pulse.

"Oh, but it is. You are stressed. The drugs are only acting to cover it up; to mess with your head.

Legolas stared at him.

"You may well enjoy life; I'm not denying that. Stress doesn't necessarily make somebody depressed and you are certainly not depressed Legolas. You don't understand why you get angry, do you?"

Legolas was still staring at him.

There was nothing he could say, for it was all true.

"It is because of how stressed you are. Anger is one of the symptoms, especially anger towards those you love," the healer explained softly. "Think about it, Legolas. You find that you are more likely to lose your temper when you have not taken gellgalas in a while, do you not?"

Legolas still couldn't find his voice, but the healer's question needed no answer; it was rhetorical.

"You may not be able to see it Legolas, but you _are_ stressed and badly so. You need to sort it out."

"What? Counselling?"

"To put it straight, yes."

"Are you insinuating that I'm mentally messed up?!"

"Mentally _instable_ is the politically correct term, My Lord. And no, I'm telling you that you suffer from excessive stress--"

"And need mental help."

"You need to pull back on how much work-load you take on," Kethiron said amusedly, looking at the haughty expression on his prince's face.

"How? I'm a prince – It's my job to have a huge amount of work."

"It's also your job to balance it out. Daeral is coming of age soon, is he not?"

"You think that would lessen my duties? It seems a bit unfair on him…"

"The amount of duties you attend to seems unfair to me."

"Maybe."

"Truly. Think on it." With that, Kethiron got up and left, leaving a thoughtful Legolas behind him.

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_**Gellgalas**_ (own invention) – translates as 'joy plant' which is the English translation of 'Hul Gil' the Sumerian name for Opium. I thought it was a basic and somewhat primitive description of the drug which seemed to fit in with Tolkien's universe.

_The Sumerians lived in ancient Mesopotamia between the 6__th__ century B.C and the 2__nd__ century B.C, so anybody who would like to start a rant about 'modern drug taking' can go and think things over. _

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_Reviews would be nice. _

_Very nice. _

_Very, very nice. _

_* Hint, hint * _


	9. Raedian the 'Rapist'

**Note:**** Sindarin words are written in bold and a translation will be included at the end of each chapter. **

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Legolas ambled across one of the many upstairs halls. He'd been let out of the infirmary a week ago and the 'familial fussing' that always accompanies a medical discharge was in full play. Even Raedian's attitude towards him was a resemblance of 'tolerance'.

He also felt a peace of mind that he hadn't been familiar with in quite a long time.

He was no longer confused as to why he got angry.

But he also had to inform his family on the whole situation. Including the drugs.

At first, Legolas had thought that they would never look at him again, never mind talk to him, but he had been surprised by their reactions.

Izzy had _very_ nearly had a mental breakdown and launched straight into a whole triad about how - '**I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE FOR HIM! IT'S MY FAULT…**' and so on.

How it was his fault Legolas had absolutely no clue.

Huirlith had simply stated in his dreamy voice: 'It was inevitable, it was inevitable…'. He had a very 'interesting' way of putting things.

Sili's comment had given Legolas quite a shock.

'I know.'

Apparently he had already guessed, but nevertheless he was smiling; evidence to the fact that he still cared for and loved his little brother.

His father, however, had needed to sit down after hearing the revelation.

Legolas had felt almost nauseous with worry that he would never accept him again.

But he did.

The knowledge only served to make him love Legolas all the more.

But it was Raedian's response that had been the most astonishing of them all.

He burst into tears.

Legolas very nearly ran to the window to look out and see if there were any pigs flying around…

But at the end of it all, to Legolas' elation – and relief, every single one of them still loved and cherished him.

And to Legolas, that was all that mattered.

He was jolted back to the present when he heard sounds of laughter coming from Raedian's room.

_Raedian was laughing?! _

With someone else…?

Legolas stopped to listen.

A…_GIRL?!?_

'_Oh sweet Elbereth, this is too good to be true!'_ his mind was already whizzing with mischievous plans.

_Oh yes this was going to be good. _

_**Very good**__. _

Legolas' face split into a massive grin. The kind that would make somebody squirm in their shoes with the anticipation that something BAD was about to happen.

And something bad _was_ about to happen.

And so, without further ado, Legolas kicked the door of Raedian's room open, for all the world to see.

Including the guards in the corridor.

"Well, what have we here...?"

-_SHRIEK_-

"WHY YOU FILTHY LITTLE _RAT!!!_

-_Swear, curse, swear_ –

-_LAUGH_-

"WHEN I'M FINISHED WITH YOU, YOU WON'T EVEN BE ABLE TO REMEMBER YOUR OWN NAME, YOU DISGUSTING, VILE LITTLE ORC SPAWN!!!"

-_Bump, bang, scramble_-

-_More swearing, more cursing_-

By this time Raedian's poor female friend had managed to haul her clothes back on (much to the guard's disappointment) and was currently jumping out of the window into the nearest tree.

Raedian meanwhile, was running down the corridor after Legolas.

In nothing but his underpants.

"**You get back here brat! I'm going to pull your filthy insides out!! – GET BACK HERE!!!"**

-_INSANE LAUGHTER_-

"_**ARRGHGHGHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!"**_

And so it went on, with a lot more 'unsavoury' words and 'inappropriate' language – particularly for a prince to be using. Inevitably, it wasn't long before King Thranduil was on the scene.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS RACKET?!" he boomed.

"Raedian was—" Legolas' words were cut short by Raedian's hand clamping over his mouth.

"Raedian. Why are you running around in your _underwear?!_" the King asked incredulously.

Raedian opened his mouth and looked down.

Upon seeing his current state, he turned red.

Correction.

_He turned scarlet._

It was this distraction that enabled Legolas to shove his brother's hand away from his mouth.

"Because he was sexually assaulting a girl and now he's trying to do the same to me!"

Thranduil raised his eyebrows.

Raedian's face was quite literally _purple. _

"_**WWWHHHHAAAATTTTT??!!!!!!" **_He—well, you decide what word fits best.

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THE END!

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_**Hope you enjoyed it!!! **_


	10. Epilogue

_**Epilogue: **_**Here's the beginning of my next story which continues on from this one: 'Three Miles to Dol Guldur'. It's quite dark and sinister, although I'm going to class it as a 'mystery/angst' story, rather than horror. It may well change to 'mystery/horror' though, as it progresses. I'll see how it turns out. **

_**Summary:**_** "It's so sinister and foreboding; it's unnatural. Like the air itself is an agent of the enemy…" **

"**We're three miles from Dol Guldur. The air here is an agent of the enemy." **

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Legolas tested the chains; they were more than adequate for their job. He sighed. Jarvek had dragged him to one of the many cells in the despicable tower, much to Legolas' physical protests. It hadn't, however, done him much good as he has still been hauled into the damp, decrepit prison and chained to the wall, something (Legolas recalled with great repulsion) that Jarvek had enjoyed doing immensely, and then left Legolas alone in the horrible room for the rest of the day. Not that Legolas could've actually told if it was day or night; the cell stayed the same colour – pitch black. It seemed that Jarvek revelled in people's helplessness and enjoyed taking advantage over their vulnerability whenever he could. Still, at least the gag had been removed and Legolas was now able to use his mouth again, although the reason for the small act of mercy was not to let him speak, but rather to allow him to drink. Legolas was actually quite surprised that Jarvek had even left him any water; it seemed very out-of-character for such a cruel being. Although, when Legolas thought over it, he supposed the only reason he was getting anything to drink was so he would be strong enough to endure whatever gruesome torture Jarvek had in store for him when they got to Dol Guldur. Legolas shuddered. He had found out from Jarvek's incessant taunts that Dol Guldur was where they were headed for and he couldn't help but fear what evil lay in waiting for him there. It would be a long journey – 200 miles or there about. And so the night ploughed on, and slowly the light of the next day crept up and over the tall trees of Mirkwood; Legolas hadn't slept, for the fear that Jarvek had acted on his threat and actually killed his friends in the night was plaguing him, tormenting him. He tossed about and pulled at his bonds in frustration, but all he acquired was bloodied wrists. He beseeched the Valar to save them, he cursed the Valar for ever letting them become involved in this mess. The emotional pain was relentless, tearing his insides up, ripping his mind to shreds.

But all he could do was wait for the morning and see whether they were alive…

…Or whether they were dead.

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End file.
